


Fatigue is Clouding your Judgment

by TheDogPotato



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Canon Divergence, Gen, Kent was right about Morgan, Torture, set at the end of season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 15:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDogPotato/pseuds/TheDogPotato
Summary: Kent was right about Morgan and could have gotten her caught. She can't let that go unpunished.





	Fatigue is Clouding your Judgment

Kent felt like shit when the shift was over. He’d been awake for 40 hours straight working on this case and as a thank you he had to go apologise to Morgan on Chandler’s orders. He felt like crying. Was it really just his own jealousy that had made him act the way he did during the case? He could feel the dent he’d put in his and Chandler’s relationship, so when he was ordered to make the apology, he’d simply complied with a quick “Yes sir”.

Once he’d entered the room, he’d realised that the shady phone call Morgan had made had actually been to her mom, and he felt even more ashamed. He tried his best at a proper apology ending it on a self-deprecating note, but Morgan had turned that around to tell him he was a bad cop. In his sleep deprived state, all he could do was leave the room and go have that beer Mansell had offered him. And another one. He thought about grabbing a third one for the road, but he stopped himself. He would rather just go home and go to sleep. He’d already had enough that he couldn’t drive, so he said goodbye to the others, most of whom were happily celebrating the end of the case, relieved it was over after such a long time working and therefore loopily joining in on Mansell’s belated divorce celebrations.

The alcohol had just served to make him drowsy and when he reached the stairway to his flat all he could think about was curling up in bed and hopefully wake up to a world where every thought didn’t sting so much.

Then all he could think about was the pressure on his throat. The drowsiness disappeared and was replaced by panic.

His hands instantly went up to his throat to try and get the pressure off, but it didn’t work. The panic intensified.

He needed air.

He gasped, but his airways were blocked.

He needed air.

He thrashed about violently, but the grasp was tight, and he couldn’t get rid of his assailant.

His world went black.

When he came to, his view was obstructed by some dark cloth pulled over his head. He felt the ground beneath him, and his arms were violently pulled backwards as someone was tying something around his arms to keep them together.

His first instinct was to scream. It hurt to do and all that came out was a low scratchy sound muffled by the cloth, but still it was early in the morning. There had to be people around to hear him. It had to echo up the halls and get _someone’s_ attention. Despite the pain he tried again, but an arm folded around his mouth, leaving Kent to breathe in through his nose. With the cloth there almost wasn’t enough air for him to breathe and the panic settled in again. He breathed rapidly trying to remain conscious, but just before thinking that was it, the arm was removed from his face and he was hoisted up by his arm and pushed somewhere.

Now was the time for him to resist. He had to make a scene so people would notice. Hopefully enough to scare his assailant away, but at least enough for there to be some leads leading to… whatever was going to happen next.

He pushed back as hard as he could, but being tired and having just been unconscious, he didn’t have much strength left and he almost lost his balance when he put his feet into the ground diagonally to have something to push back against. He stumbled to regain his balance, but this was enough to push him out the door. He noticed cause he also stumbled down the extra tall step just outside the flat. He was outside now. People _had _to be around.

Ignoring the pain, he screamed as loud as he could as he tried once more to get out of the grasp that was firmly on his shoulder. He kicked backwards hoping to hit the assailant with enough force to have them release their grasp, but his leg found no purchase and in that moment, he was pushed violently forward.

Without his arms free to break the fall he landed against something above the ground, only just managing to keep his head high enough that it didn’t get impacted like his torso and stomach. He winced from the pain of the impact. What sparse air he had, had been knocked out of him, but he knew he didn’t have a lot of time left to get someone’s attention, and he drew in a shallow breath and screamed once more. Please. Someone. _Anyone._

He could only hope someone had noticed, but no one came to his aid. His legs were grabbed, and he was pushed further onto the flat surface his torso was rested against. He tried rolling over to get out of what he’d now figured out must be the trunk of a car, but it was tough to move anywhere with his arms tied behind his back. If only he could. He knew his chances of getting away were zero to none, but if he could get out, he’d increase the time for people to notice what was going on.

He’d barely had that thought, before he heard the slamming of the trunk and what little light, he had been able to see through the dark cloth, disappeared.

For all that he’d tried, the assailant had gotten him to where they wanted quickly and effectively. He felt ashamed and scared and sick. He had to regulate his breaths; he couldn’t throw up in this situation.

He shivered with the exhaustion that came over him, but his mind was racing far too fast for him to give into its demands of sleep. Having that many thoughts race through his head was disorienting and uncomfortable, but as soon as he felt the rumble of the car start, he gave himself a task to keep his thoughts in check. Without being able to see anything, he couldn’t keep track of where they were going, but he could take notice of how long it took to get there. He also tried to keep an ear out for any familiar sounds, but he couldn’t focus on more than that, just counting the time it took before the car stopped again. He repeated it to himself so as not to forget it. Maybe once his mind was clearer, he’d have an idea of where in London he might be. He was still in London, that much was clear. The ride hadn’t been long enough for it to be anywhere else.

The car held still for a while before he heard the click of the trunk again and a bit of light shone through the cloth again. 

He was pulled out of the trunk again, landing painfully on the ground with his shoulders, some loose rocks digging into his skin. Then was pulled up again. His instincts kicked in again and despite being even weaker than before, he kicked out again, hearing a small _tsk, _as the assailant once again avoided his attempt and steered him further towards the end goal. This was the first time he’d heard the assailant utter anything, and he tried to rack his brain to figure out if he’d heard the voice before.

Had he been targeted by someone he knew? Or had it been an opportune moment when no one was around? Considering it was broad daylight, he couldn’t imagine it being someone randomly choosing that time to look for a victim. It had to be someone who knew him personally. Someone who would be aware that he was coming home tired from a long shift and would be weaker and not as alert because of that.

The kick hadn’t worked, but he bit back the pain and yelled through his sore throat again, still holding out hope that someone would notice, wherever he might be right now.

He stumbled up a step he didn’t know about but avoided the fall. A door creaked open and as they went in a single word of warning was uttered in a low tone:

“Stairs”

Kent couldn’t place the voice, but it revealed that whoever had attacked him was a woman. He didn’t have a lot of time to ponder about that before he felt his foot go down further than he had expected and for a second his stomach dropped as he thought he was gonna fall, but then his foot hit the step beneath. He blindly tried to walk down the stairs as carefully as he could. The assailant didn’t even have to push him forward. He did so willingly, so he could avoid a fall down the stairs with no arms to break his fall.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the hand gripped tightly around his shoulder again and another wrapped around his mouth, and he was pushed further ahead. They stopped and the hand was removed from his mouth again. Not caring about what the assailant might do, he yelled again expecting the hand across his face again or some sort of pain, but he just heard the clinking of keys and something, probably a door, scraping across the floor, before being lead further into this underground place.

Another lock opened with the clack of something metallic, and they had arrived at their destination, which was evident when Kent was pushed down to sit on the floor. He tried to resist, but it wasn’t long before he was sitting on the floor. He heard a metallic rustle sound to the left of him before feeling something clamp down on his leg. He expected pain to follow but there was none.

He then heard the door close, a click and then silence. There was no one around to stop him from making sound now, so he screamed again, his voice coming out rough and low. It was so painful; he began to feel like it wasn’t worth the pain. When he moved his leg, he made louder metallic noises than the noises he could make by screaming. He’d been chained to something, cause he couldn’t move further away than the metal allowed him to. He tried moving around to explore the space around him. He could feel pipes and the floor and walls were tiled. At some point he reached something, he figured must be a toilet. A bathroom then. When he realised that was all he could make out, he eventually gave into the exhaustion and leant up against a wall. He could feel the absence of weight in his pockets and knew that his assailant must’ve grabbed his belongings when he was out cold which meant he didn’t have his phone. An obvious thing to get rid of but there was a chance she wouldn’t have thought about it, or that she’d have had enough trust in him not being able to use it with his hands tied behind his back. He tested the strength of the bonds. They were strong and tough to get out of and he didn’t have the energy to do so right then.

Now that he wasn’t doing anything active and keeping his mind occupied, a gaping hole of fear and anxiety filled his chest. The nausea had returned and once again he had to do all in his might not to throw up.

Someone had to have seen him, and even if they hadn’t, it wouldn’t take long before people found out he was missing. _You were just kidnapped. _His flatmates would check in on him to see how the case was going and whether he’d be home for dinner. _You’re trapped underground somewhere unknown. _The next shift would come around and the others would find out he was missing. _Why were you kidnapped? _They would start an investigation once they realised that things were fishy. _What is she going to do to you? _But when would that be? _By then your corpse will already be decomposing somewhere._

He shook his head trying to get rid of the intrusive thoughts, but it only served to make the bile rise in his throat and his head to hurt from the motion.

_Your sister is going to miss you so much._

With that thought the tears that had been absent up till this point began flowing as if floodgates had been opened. He cried from fear, he cried from exhaustion, he cried from pain, he cried from every single thought that entered his brain, and then he couldn’t cry anymore, too tired to even do that. His thoughts became a blur and he fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

Kent was rudely awoken when the cloth was pulled away from his head and everything turned bright. His head hurt and he was disoriented for a few moments before his eyes adjusted to the light. It wasn’t that bright, just a simple lightbulb lighting up the room he was in. In the periphery of his vision he could tell his earlier assumption about the room he was in, had been correct, but that was only a subconscious thought as his main focus was on his assailant standing before him, a black t-shirt in her hands.

Morgan Lamb.

She smiled when she saw the shock on his face.

“Did you sleep well?”

The shock and confusion were quickly replaced by anger. He wanted to sneer at her: “You know very well that I didn’t,” but the first word came out croaky and hurtful. It was worse than when he’d yelled before. Maybe because he _had_ yelled before. He tried to clear his throat, but the pain made him wince.

Morgan just looked at him with the same smile on her face.

“You?” He managed to get out, prompting her to say something.

“I’m surprised that you’re surprised, Kent, I thought you knew all along,” she said, her smile staying the same. Taunting him.

Kent’s throat was raw and scratchy, and his mouth was dry. He wanted to reply. He felt righteous anger at this revelation. He wanted to question her. To gain more information. Despite not being in a position to demand anything, this was what he wanted most right now. His anger had temporarily pushed all other emotions aside. But he couldn’t get a proper word forth, and there was still a lingering self-conscious that didn’t want him to constantly croak out words.

“I understand if it’s hard for you to talk about. You’d just convinced yourself that you were wrong and then you weren’t all of a sudden. I know it’ll take a bit of getting used to,” she said in an understanding tone which given the situation came off as mocking. She knew why he couldn’t say anything to her right now.

“I’ll just go grab you some water,” she said, then left the room. The door opened inwards to the side that Kent was in, so he couldn’t get a glimpse of what was outside the room. He heard her lock the door again.

She’d been right about one thing though. He _had_ just convinced himself that he was wrong. He’d felt ashamed of his insistence on it towards Chandler and thought the feeling he had acted on had just been jealousy, but now he knew that it was not. Morgan had gotten away with her crime, and now she’d committed another one. Would she also get away with this one?

With a sinking feeling, Kent once again realised that Chandler had feelings for her. This time it wasn’t the sour feeling of seeing the man he loved falling for someone else. This time it was fear. What if he’d been right about another thing he’d said? What if Chandler still couldn’t see her for who she was because he was attracted to her.

Kent didn’t know what she intended to do to him, a thought and a fear he was pushing off for now, but he knew she’d get away with it if Chandler was still blinded to who she was.

His back ached and the scars from the striping hurt from him sitting down on the floor sleeping. His shoulders complained from his arms being tied behind his back. His head ached from everything that had happened, and the lack of sleep and sustenance, which also made him nauseous. At one point he was gonna throw up, but he suppressed it despite the discomfort, cause the worst thing of all was his throat and he did not want to know what it felt like throwing up when your throat was in pain from strangulation.

He was exhausted, but once again his mind was racing, and he couldn’t just go back to sleep. He had to act. At least sleep had given him a modicum of energy and he was gonna use that to free his hands. He remembered the courses he’d had and with some time and effort he would be able to do it. Maybe he could surprise Morgan when she came back and overpower her. A good surprise could turn the tide in his favour.

He looked down at the chain on his leg. He wouldn’t be able to get out of that by himself, and it was wrapped around a sturdy pipe, so he couldn’t break the thing he was tied to either. He could only hope she would have the key with her. He didn’t feel up for a fight and a subsequent escape, but he would gather all of the strength he had if it could give him a chance to get out of this situation.

Kent had been right about his ability to escape the binds, and his shoulders sighed in relief when he held his hands out in front of him. He rubbed them together. They buzzed slightly from the lesser blood flow, but they hadn’t been bound too tightly for it to be anything major. He rolled his shoulders and neck a bit, enjoying what little relief he could get.

With his hands on the ground for support, he stood up for the first time since he’d gotten down there. His legs were not happy to support him, and his head ached with the movement, but he jogged in place for a bit, making sure everything in his body would listen to what he told it, when the time came.

He then sat back down and bided his time until Morgan returned.

When he heard the lock, he put his arms behind his back, pretending they were still bound. She entered and closed the door behind her. She had a big bottle of water in her hands.

Kent’s muscles tightened in suspense when she approached him. He was preparing to strike.

She didn’t say anything, as she unscrewed the cap of the bottle. She just observed him like she was learning stuff about him just by looking at him.

When she leant forward to put the bottle near his face, he sprang up ready to throw a punch, but she quickly tossed the bottle aside and pushed down on his shoulder, so he didn’t get to stand up properly. When he put his hand on the ground to keep from being pushed further down, she stomped down hard on it and he felt a searing pain in his ring and little finger. He yelled involuntarily as he withdrew his hand. With his legs he pushed himself back up against the pipes and further away from Morgan as he held the hand throbbing with pain out in front of him.

Morgan didn’t seem fazed by the turn of events at all.

“Some people are just easier to read than others. You are one of them,” she said matter-of-factly.

Kent gritted his teeth from hurt and anger.

“You don’t know me!” his voice was scratchy and throaty, but he couldn’t take her arrogance.

“I know you’re scared at the notion. It’s not nice when someone can see you for what you are, when what you are is a pathetic little policeman burning with anger and jealousy.”

He fumed at her words; his teeth clenched as he stared at her.

She picked up the bottle that had spilled almost all of its contents across the floor, and filled it up at the sink, before putting it down close to Kent.

“No need for me to bottle feed you now that you have working hands… or at least one of them. But you really should stay hydrated. You’re gonna be here a while. I might even get you something to eat. You look _weak_,” a smile spread across her face at the last word and she turned around to leave.

Kent couldn’t let her have the last word, so he once again accepted the pain it would take to speak.

“Not so pathetic when I figured you out!” he said in an attempt to not let the words get to him.

She stopped and turned around the saccharine smile still on her face.

“Oh excuse me. I didn’t know it was good police practice to let the known culprit get away scot free. I’m sure you’re a good cop then.”

Kent looked down at the words, letting his insecurity show. Her words were like knives going straight into his brain, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. He looked up again defiantly. He’d just have to take the conversation somewhere where he would get something out of it; information.

“What about Luke then? He said he was sorry he didn’t kill you before dying. Were you a team? Rivals? Was he just someone to take the fall for you?”

She huffed.

“Ah trying to gather information. Now that’s something a good little cop would do.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew Kent’s phone. “But I’m afraid information like that doesn’t come for free. I’ll tell you _if _you tell me your password to your phone.”

Now it was Kent’s turn to huff. Finally, there was something she wanted, and he was not going to give it to her. He smiled as he told her no.

She just shrugged, put the phone back in her pocket and exited the room once more.

Kent took a look at his hand. It was hot and every heartbeat send a flash of pain through it. A bruise was already starting to blossom around the two fingers he felt the most pain in. He’d kept the hand still in front of him, but he tried to cautiously move his fingers. Something he instantly regretted when the dull throbbing pain turned into agony. He didn’t know much about medical stuff, but he’d guess that something was broken. There was nothing he could do about it but keep his hand still, so he instead turned to the bottle of water.

His throat was dry and scratchy and his body needed the water even though he didn’t feel in a state to drink it at the moment. Still he forced himself to grab the bottle and take small sips. They felt wonderful entering his mouth, but swallowing was painful. Still after a couple of sips, he could feel his throat get less sore.

The relief didn’t last long though. He’d been able to keep the nausea at bay as long as his stomach had been mostly free of contents, but now that he was adding water, he gagged and almost immediately had to rush over to the toilet to vomit. The stomach acid burned his throat and he was even more hesitant to drink more after that even though his mouth now tasted horrible.

He sat back down. Took a deep breath and began drinking small sips again, spacing them out so he never quite got to be nauseous, and he started to feel better. He was still uncomfortable, trapped and in pain, and it did nothing to stop the thoughts of doubt and insecurity, fear and anger placed there by Morgan, but still his body thanked him.

He leant back trying to get as comfortable as was possible. He thought of how he’d be able to escape but his chances of overpowering Morgan seemed ever slimmer and he still didn’t know if she had the key to the chain on his leg on her. When that line of thought didn’t get him anywhere, he thought relaxing or maybe even getting some sleep would be his best choice, but his mind wouldn’t let him and soon wandered to darker places.

It left him even more mentally exhausted when Morgan returned some time after. Kent had no way of knowing how long it had been, but it had felt like an eternity. Still it was not a welcome event when the door opened again.

Morgan was carrying a cutting board with different things to make a sandwich on it. Without saying anything she closed the door, sat the cutting board down across the sink and started making the sandwich. Kent didn’t know what to say to this, so he just eyed her, as she cut pieces of cheese and meat with a knife, and used scissors to cut some garnish to put on top before adding a pinch of salt. As she prepared the food, she ate a bit of everything before closing it and handing it over to him.

Kent accepted it with a puzzled expression.

“Eat,” she said simply.

He glanced down at the sandwich unsurely.

“Nothing’s wrong with it. That’s why I prepared it down here and tasted everything. I know you’d be wary of me and the food I gave you.”

“Why are you doing this?” He said suspicious of her actions. His voice was less hoarse, and it didn’t hurt as much to speak.

“You are hungry,” she said, and Kent’s stomach instantly betrayed him by growling, showing that she was correct.

“No, I mean…”

“I know what you meant,” she patted the pocket where Kent’s phone was visible, “but that is information and I told you that information doesn’t come for free, so unless you want to tell me – eat!”

If she wanted him to eat that meant she wanted him to stay there and stay alive for a longer amount of time. If she planned to just kill him, there would be no reason for him to eat. Kent didn’t want to give into her commands, but he didn’t want to tell her anything either, and not eating when he was hungry was a protest that would only hurt himself in the long run, so he took a bite out of the sandwich. It tasted normally, and Kent _had _seen her make it and taste the ingredients, but he was still suspicious as he swallowed the first bite.

Morgan just stared at him while he ate which he found unnerving, but nothing happened and he continued to take small bites out of the sandwich, still mindful that his stomach was upset from the stress and pain and lack of sleep.

He finished it and there was a moment of silence where the two of them just stared at each other.

“Are you waiting for something to kick in?”

Kent didn’t answer. She was correct again and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of telling her that. Still he had a creeping feeling that his silence did the telling for him.

Morgan smiled and Kent had the urge to lash out at her to wipe the grin from her face. She walked over to the cutting board on the sink.

“You really are a _bad _cop in more ways than one it would seem. Seeing danger where there is none, failing to see the obvious danger right in front of you,” she said as she grabbed the knife she’d used to cut the cheese and meat.

Kent’s stomach sank and his heartbeat rose. He instinctively pressed his back even closer to the pipes behind him. Could he disarm her? There was little chance of that with his one hand in pain and his one leg chained to the ground and in his weakened state.

She slowly approached him and when she knelt in front of him, Kent kicked out after her, but she only got in closer, putting part of her weight against his free leg. He grabbed out after her wrist with his good hand hoping to be able to wrench the knife from her grasp, but she grabbed his injured hand before he could do anything and squeezed down on it. He hissed in pain, and when she released his hand again his immediate thought was to pull it closer to him to protect it from being hurt again. She used this moment of distraction to grab his good hand and hold it down. He tried to break free, but she held on tightly. If he hadn’t been so weakened and tired, he would’ve been able to free himself, but try as he might he couldn’t, and she put the knife down out of his reach as she slowly rolled up his sleeve.

He was breathing hard from panic settling in as she slowly grabbed the knife again, and he did a last desperate attempt of freeing his arm but to no avail.

Ever so slowly she made a small incision in his arm. He jolted from the pain of it, but it wasn’t as bad as some of the other stuff he’d experienced. She saw this realization on his face, gave him a small unsettling smile and made another cut. Slowly but surely the pain continued and then after a while she stopped.

Kent was breathing heavily from the pain. He looked at her with fear and doubt in his eyes. Why had she stopped?

“I just thought there might be other ways to get you to share information with me,” she said and answered his silent question. “I can stop right here if you give me the code to your phone.”

Kent didn’t know why she wanted that information, but if she was going to such great lengths to get it, it was important to her, so he gritted his teeth and stared at her.

“No.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Suit yourself.”

She made the next cut along the same length as one of the old ones and Kent gasped in pain immediately betraying the stoic expression he was trying to put up. She smiled again, and he concentrated even more on not revealing his misery, as she continued making more cuts.

She stopped again, but he didn’t even look up at her this time. Just continued staring blankly ahead of him.

“I’ll try asking aga-“

“No!” Kent interrupted then looked at her again. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

She shrugged. “I don’t give information away for free.” She simply told him as she stood up. She put the bloodied knife away, but Kent didn’t hold out much hope for this being the end of it. He was instantly proved right as the grabbed the salt she’d used on the sandwich. He glared at her, already knowing her next step and just gritted his teeth preparing for what was to come.

She paused before him giving him another chance to say anything, but he just sneered at her. Once again, she took it aggravatingly calm and simply poured the salt before rubbing it into his wounds.

Kent bent down from the pain, accidentally bending down on his injured hand in the process. He hissed and gasped, and feeling lightheaded he fell back into the pipes, his body still yelling at him to be aware of the pain.

Morgan was up by the cutting board again, and this time her weapon of choice was the scissors.

“You know how you’re easy to read?” Morgan said as she opened and closed the scissors a couple of times. “Well, this time you will tell me what your password to your phone is.” Of course, this statement only served to make Kent even more adamant about not telling her, but that was before he knew what she intended to do.

Once again, she grabbed his injured hand roughly making Kent yelp. He grimaced at his own reaction. She then slowly placed his index finger between the blades of the scissor. Kent tried pulling his hand back, but it hurt too much for him to put any real strength into it.

She then slowly but surely applied pressure and the sharp blades dug into his finger. Kent’s eyes widened with fear and pain, he yanked it back again, only making the cut larger and messier. She grabbed his arm with her free hand to prevent him from doing that too much and meanwhile her other hand just kept applying more pressure.

Kent’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. He gasped for air: “Please no!”

The pressure stopped.

“Was I right? Will you give me the information?” She said smiling. Kent sneered at that and it almost made him clam up again, but his angry reaction made her begin cutting again, and he snapped out of it: “Two zero zero nine!” he quickly blurted out.

She removed the scissors from his hand. They hadn’t reached the bone, but they’d left a nasty deep cut at the joint, leaving yet another finger on that hand useless and in excruciating pain.

Kent could do nothing but sit and try to breathe normally as Morgan wiped her hands somewhat clean with some toilet paper, took out the phone and tested the password. She sent him a smug look when she saw it worked and started typing.

He stared at her suspiciously, but recent events made him wary to say anything.

“Just letting your persistent roommates know you won’t be home for dinner yet again today,” she explained.

Of course, she wanted to avoid suspicion for as long as possible, Kent thought. That made sense.

“Now what should I write Chandler?” she said, and the question made Kent’s head jerk up towards her. She huffed, and he cursed himself inwardly. “Should I tell him you’re not able to come into work today? No? Should I just wait until someone contacts you. See how long it takes before they even think to look into your disappearance? I’ll let you know if you’re still alive at that point.”

Kent gritted his teeth and spoke again.

“You’re making a mistake using my phone like that. It’s gonna lead to you! They’ll find out and they’ll catch you! If you’re not dead beforehand,” Kent snarled at her. He knew what she was capable of doing, but he did not want to just cower and accept her taunts. He knew remaining neutral in a situation like his was the best thing to do, but she made his blood boil, and he couldn’t help himself. She just took the words with an amused smile.

“Luke and I were a team, yes.”

Kent frowned, puzzled by her non-sequitur.

“I tried to shield him and make sure you didn’t catch on to the fact that he was the one committing the murders. I myself, as you correctly guessed, was the insider, hearing what was going on inside the station and passing on the information to my “mum”. His dying words were him protecting me, casting aside suspicion, and it seems like it worked. Poor boy. I’ll miss him.”

Kent didn’t know what to say. Why was she sharing this with him all of a sudden?

“You gave me the information I wanted, if somewhat unwillingly, so I’m giving you the information you wanted,” she answered his unspoken question again. Every time she read him like an open book, an unpleasant thought scratched at the back of his head. _She is right. She can read you. Perhaps everything she tells you is true._

“But why are you doing this?”

“I agreed with him. Those brats tortured his poor dad to death,” her expression went grim as she spoke.

“No, I mean. This,” he tried to gesture without moving his arms that were both hurting.

“Tsk tsk, you almost spoiled the whole thing, and I could not let that go unpunished.” Her tone was way too soft for the words she uttered.

Kent was still trying to understand, and as long as she was answering his questions, he was gonna keep asking them:

“But why do this? Why not just kill me like the others?”

“This is different. You’re not one of the others. Luke was the one who did the hands-on job there. The one with a vision. Punish them in ways that suited them. That part I admire, but his work was way too quick. It had to be when there were so many to kill and the police was on our tail. With you I can take my time. I like that.”

Kent’s mind began imagining what else she had planned. He shook his head to shut his mind up. She laughed.

“Yes, I think I’ll leave you on that note today,” she said as she grabbed the bottle and filled it up once more, since the sink was too far away for Kent to reach. When she put it down again, Kent just looked at the bloody fingerprints she had left on it. 

She then walked towards the door but paused before she reached it.

“After all, I don’t want to look like this when Chandler comes over for our date tonight,” she said as a final punch to Kent’s gut before leaving.

***

Chandler showed up at Morgan’s place at exactly the time they’d agreed upon. He was excited but nervous. His mood had been high all day thinking about the kiss they’d shared in the morning. Not even Kent’s rude absence from the late shift at work had dampened his spirits. Miles had joked about him and his happy mood all day, but Chandler had taken it in stride and joked back.

Now he was less cheerful and more self-aware as he stood outside her door, waiting for her to answer the doorbell. He cleared his throat and rearranged the way he held the chocolate he’d bought for her.

She opened the door and Chandler stood in awe for a moment before greeting her.

She laughed. “Good evening!”

Chandler also stammered out a good evening before laughing nervously. “I got you these. I figured it’d be good to give you something you could enjoy without cooking.”

She took the chocolates with a smile. “Funny you should say so. I had a similar thought about this evening. Come in,” she said when Chandler was still nervously stepping from foot to foot outside her door. Chandler walked in, left his shoes and jacket and followed her into the kitchen where she showed him the sushi she’d bought.

“I might’ve asked Miles if there was anything you preferred right before I got the clear to go home,” she said.

Chandler smiled. “So, all day he knew about this and didn’t tell me. He almost had me fooled that he could read my mind.”

They laughed as they sat down to eat.

“Did anything exciting happen at work today then? I know it was a shorter day than usual. Or are you not supposed to share that with me?” Morgan asked.

Chandler huffed. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me sharing that nothing exciting happened today.” He paused before taking the next bite.

“Is anything wrong?” she asked. Chandler looked at her. He knew she was good at telling when people lied, and it wasn’t a thought he couldn’t share, so he was honest with her.

“Kent didn’t show up for work today. He might’ve just overslept, it was a long and arduous shift,” he said pausing to underline the truth of those words, since Morgan would really understand. “But he didn’t call, and he didn’t answer any calls, and I think he might be avoiding work in a very unprofessional manner.”

Morgan furrowed her brow. “Why would he be avoiding work?”

Chandler looked uncomfortable sharing this, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t know. “During the case, Kent and I had an argument where he said some… inappropriate things.”

“Inappropriate things?” Morgan repeated half-laughing. “What did he say?”

Chandler hadn’t meant to tell her, but she did ask and if he thought about it, it wouldn’t be as embarrassing to admit now given that they were on a date. “Well, he said that I didn’t think you could be the murderer because I had feelings for you.”

“Ah.”

“I think he might be embarrassed about thinking what he did, you know accusing you, and saying what he did, but it’s no excuse to not come into work and not say anything about it. I don’t know why he’s being so unprofessional these days and it’s bothering me!”

Morgan looked at him softly. “It was a frustrating case. He might really have needed this day to himself. Don’t give him a hard time when he comes back. He still listens to you. It can’t have been fun giving me that apology. He really believed in his theory. It turned out to not be correct, but you have to applaud him for doing his job and looking at every possibility, but he got shut down and told to apologise.”

“He told you I told him to do that?” Chandler looked even more annoyed.

Morgan laughed. “No, but it was obvious. I appreciate you looking out for me, Chandler, but I didn’t need that apology. I understand what your job is. I understand that even witnesses can be suspects. People need their space. I think Kent needs his. Is it unprofessional not to call? Yes, but don’t blow up in his face about it. We’re nearing the weekend, so I think he might wait until after that. I’m sure he’ll come back around.”

Chandler sighed. He sat in his own thoughts for a moment. “You’re a better person than I am. But I’m his superior officer. I should do something about it!”

She smiled again; a soothing smile. She took his hand in hers and he let her. “Of course you should, but do it _professionally_,” she put extra emphasis on the last word, “remember, we can all have bad days, and I think he is having one right now. I would know. I deal with stuff like that as a counsellor all the time.”

Chandler nodded. He knew what it was like to have bad days. Morgan seemed to understand his thoughts and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

A phone started buzzing and Chandler instinctively looked down at his own phone, then over at Morgan’s lying on the table. Morgan looked surprised.

“Oh speaking of being a counsellor. That’s my work phone. I must’ve forgotten to turn it off,” she explained, and Chandler nodded.

The conversation soon fell on other topics and they enjoyed their evening together.

When it was time for him to leave, she gently grabbed his face, thanked him for the wonderful evening and kissed him tenderly which left a smile on his face all the way home.

***

Morgan had left the knife and scissor on the cutting board on the sink since it was too far away for Kent to reach. He tried anyway despite his movements being agonising. It didn’t work, and he sat down again.

He tried to think of a way out of this situation, but his thoughts were constantly drawn to the pain and discomfort he was feeling. Whenever he tried to focus on something else, dark thoughts were clawing at his mind. _Morgan was right about you. You’re weak. You’re pathetic. You’re a bad cop. You feel nothing but fear, anger and jealousy. Even now you’re jealous of Morgan being up there with Chandler. _Maybe he’ll find something suspicious. _You know he won’t. They won’t find you until after you’re dead. If they find you at all. You can do nothing to stop her. The pain you’re feeling now is only gonna get worse. _

He screamed to close off the thoughts, but they quickly crowded in on him again. Thoughts of all of the ways Morgan could torture him. Thoughts about the others going about their day, not caring enough about him to find out where he was. Thoughts of his family and friends mourning him.

It all became a blur, and Kent wished for the sweet relief of sleep, but it never seemed to come. He had never felt so hurt and scared and so alone as he did then, and it seemed to stretch on forever. At some point he must’ve slept, cause he blinked and was in a completely different position than he remembered.

He drank the water as before giving his body the only support he could give it when sleep was so hard to come by. His stomach growled as he took another sip and he simultaneously wished that Morgan would open the door and that she would never come back there again.

It took another eternity in his mind before the door opened again. He might’ve slept in between. He didn’t know. There was no way to tell time in this windowless underground bathroom.

He heard the noises before she arrived at the door and hoped against hope that it would be someone else. As soon as the door opened to reveal Morgan, he automatically shrank in on himself, fearing what was to come.

Of course Morgan noticed.

“Oh don’t worry. It’s still early in the day. I thought we’d watch a film together.”

Kent stared at her in confusion and suspicion, but she took out her phone, clicked on it and a video did indeed start playing.

Kent briefly wondered if it’d be worth aggravating her by not paying attention, but he knew it was never a good idea to do and his hand and arm were telling him that it probably wouldn’t be worth it, so he watched what she wanted him to.

It was a stationary camera showing a kitchen table set up with some takeaway sushi. Kent recognised the packaging it came in. He could vaguely hear some talking, but no one was one screen. Someone moved past the camera. Morgan. Then another figure entered the frame and Kent recognised him instantly.

He quickly caught onto the fact that Morgan must’ve set up some sort of recording advice the day before, and it didn’t take long before the subject fell on him. Chandler was angry that he hadn’t showed up for work and Kent immediately felt bad, but what was even worse was that Morgan took his side and defended him against Chandler, acting soft and sweet when she was a manipulative lying snake actually making sure that Chandler wouldn’t suspect anything if he was gone longer.

He clenched his teeth, seething with anger even though he knew that was the reaction she wanted out of him. He had to sit through their whole date and watch Chandler smile oblivious to the fact that the woman he was smitten with was a violent criminal. Oblivious to the fact that Kent had been so close by, scared and in pain. He didn’t notice a thing, and Kent could feel the hope draining from him.

Then once again adding salt to the wound, Morgan made sure to kiss Chandler right in front of the camera. Kent looked away.

“Are you sad, Kent?”

He glared up at her.

“That you will never have this? How does it make you feel knowing that you never got to be anything to him other than a little puppy following him around?”

“I dunno. Doesn’t seem like he’s above dating dogs considering you’re a massive bitch!” Kent snapped.

She raised her brow, then smiled.

“Seems like I hit a nerve. I think we should explore that.”

Kent didn’t respond.

“How does it make you feel knowing that his last impression of you is of an unprofessional brat? All of your hard work, all of your years trying to please him wasted.”

“What do you think this is? A therapy session?” Kent guarded himself by deflecting her question, but it was obvious to her.

“Seems like you’re not answering my questions. Now normally we’d take it slow and get there when you’re comfortable, but I think I know how to speed things up in this case,” and with those words she got up so quickly, Kent didn’t have a chance to react, his senses and movements slow from fatigue. She grabbed the front of his shirt and hoisted him up to a standing position, before shoving him into the wall. A sharp pain resonated in his head, and it was all he could do to stay standing as the room started spinning around him. He didn’t notice she’d let go of him, until the front of his shirt was grabbed again as she pushed him back once more. He minded his head this time, but when he opened his eyes through the pain, he gave a small jump of shock. Morgan was holding the tip of the knife close to his eye. He froze.

“Please share your feelings, Kent.”

Kent no longer had any snappy comments. The anger had been washed away by fear in an instant as he stared at the sharp metal in front of his face. He had to swallow a couple of times before any words would come out.

“I-I’m scared,” he admitted, feeling horrible as he said the words out loud to her.

“Understandably so. People often are in situations like this. But here’s what you can do to change that. Just tell me all that you’re feeling about Chandler and how he sees you.”

Kent paused, and she moved the knife closer. “Why are you doing this?” He asked stalling for time, but she kept moving the knife closer.

“Yes!” He yelled, then quickly elaborated. “Yes, I’m sad that he sees me that way and that I can’t be with him. I’m sad that he’s obliviously happy with… someone like you,” he wanted to choose another word than ‘someone’, but the current situation made him choose his words more carefully. “And I’m sad and angry that he didn’t listen to me when I was right and when it could have… when it could’ve prevented this.”

She replied with a mockingly sympathetic ‘aww’ and he briefly glared at her before turning to look at the dangerously close knife.

“You poor lonely thing. What a fate for a lovestruck little boy to have his hero ignore him and for it to lead to such a horrific thing. It must make you hate him, right?”

Kent felt belittled and angry, but she’d asked a question and he had to answer if he wanted to keep his eye.

“No,” he replied in a low voice.

She smiled. “Of course it doesn’t.” She lowered the knife a little, making him breath out with relief, before she patted him on the head: “Good boiii, now that wasn’t so hard was it?” she said in a sickly sweet dog voice, that made him grit his teeth. She had a way of pushing him back and forth between fear and anger all while poking at his insecurities and there was nothing he could do about it.

She stepped away from him. “I know how you thrive on praise,” she said with a smug expression. “Now sit!”

Kent reluctantly did as he was told. It was a constant struggle between not wanting her to have her way and not wanting to get unnecessarily hurt. He felt uncomfortable and embarrassed having her speak to him like that and doing what she said, but he couldn’t fight back. Not with that last threat still looming between them.

“Aww well done! Good boii,” she said once more. Kent didn’t look at her, as he did not want to see the expression matching the malicious glee in her voice.

“Just for that I think we’ll save this for later,” she said gesturing in the air with a knife. “It’s always nice having something to look forward to,” she smiled at her own comment and put the knife down shoving the cutting board a bit to the side as she did so.

She turned around to face him again.

“Oh, and by the way. The reason I’m doing this is because it’s just as fun if not more to torment you mentally. I think you deserved an answer for being such a good dog,” she said with a grin before exiting the room.

***

Chandler had arrived at work the next day to find out that Morgan had been right. Kent was still nowhere to be seen, and he still didn’t contact them or answer his phone when they called. He didn’t have much time to think about that as Miles came knocking at this door after answering the phone.

An old lady had called to tell them she’d seen someone getting kidnapped.

“Where? What did she see?”

Miles told him the address. “She saw someone with something over their head being pushed into the trunk of a car which is already useless enough if we don’t know anything about where that could’ve been taken or what the license plate was, but on top of that, it happened bloody yesterday.”

Chandler furrowed his brow. “Yesterday? Why didn’t she call until now then?”

“If you can make sense of it, please do, something about being scared to call cause she didn’t know what to do or if someone would come after her, but her conscience caught up to her. Bloody witnesses. I suppose we’ll go have a look around the area, ask her some more, maybe see if someone else might have seen anything, but I think it’s a lost cause.”

“Well we can’t just ignore it, and we have nothing else to do right now. Let’s go,” he stood up from his desk and called Riley and Mansell as he walked through the incident room.

They arrived shortly after and Mansell and Riley were sent door to door as Chandler and Miles talked to the witness and looked around the area.

The whole thing seemed as fruitless as Miles had predicted it would be. There was no CCTV in the area, the old lady couldn’t say much more about what she had seen, but mostly apologised about how late she had been at calling them.

Mansell and Riley walked door to door, but most of the people were either not home to talk to or hadn’t been home when it had happened. Mansell sighed as he looked up the last flight of stairs.

“Only one more to go. This has been useless,” he muttered as he started climbing.

“It comes with the job sometimes,” Riley said as she knocked on the door right beside the stairs going up.

A young woman opened the door still dressed in pyjamas.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“DC Riley. I just need to know if you heard any commotion or saw anything out of the ordinary outside this building yesterday morning around 9.”

The woman frowned. “No sorry, I usually sleep late. I wasn’t awake yet.”

Riley shrugged. “Anyone else living with you who might’ve seen or heard anything?”

“No both of my roommates were working then,” she paused and stared at Riley for a moment. “DC Riley, you said? Do you happen to work with Emerson, um, Emerson Kent?”

Riley blinked in surprise. “Yeah, do you know him?”

“He’s one of my roommates, yeah, though I haven’t seen him for days. Texted me yesterday to let me know he’d miss dinner due to the case yet again,” she rolled her eyes, but when she saw Riley’s expression she quickly apologised: “I’m sorry! I know it’s important work you do! It’s just insane how there can be cases warranting people to stay at work for so long!”

“No, go back, you said he hasn’t been home at all?” Riley asked suddenly feeling worried.

“Yeah, said you had to work more. He could’ve warned us something had happened right outside our flat though.”

Riley turned around to yell up the stairs. “Mansell!”

“What is it?”

“I think you should come down here!”

The woman glanced worriedly back and forth between Riley and Mansell as he came back down the stairs.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure. It might be nothing,” Riley said before turning to Mansell. “This is Kent’s flat,” she explained.

Mansell grinned. “Tell that lazy bum to come out and do his work then.”

“He’s not there. Apparently, he sent a text saying we were still working on the Luke Watney case.”

Mansell’s grin disappeared. “That’s odd.”

“Why is that odd?” the woman inquired.

Riley turned around again. “Because that case ended yesterday morning.”

“Right before the kidnapping took place,” Mansell said.

“Kidnapping?!”

“Now we don’t know if it’s him, but just in case, will you contact us if you hear anything else from him? By the way, what’s your name, love?” Riley asked.

“Of course,” she nodded. “I’m Laura Shaw. Um, I can try texting him or calling him? It took a while for him to respond yesterday, but I just assumed you’d been busy.”

“Good idea,” Riley turned to Mansell again, “Mansell, go tell the boss about this. Try to see if what the witness saw might’ve been him.”

Mansell nodded and started going down the stairs. Laura had found her phone and started texting.

“What are you writing?” Riley asked. 

“Just texting him to see if he’s home for dinner tonight. Standard question. If he’s not in trouble, I just wonder why he’d lie to us,” she said sounding sad and worried.

“There might be a perfectly good reason,” Riley tried reassuring her, but she had to be realistic. “But just in case, don’t mention anything about this investigation or that you know he wasn’t at work yesterday.”

She nodded, and Riley walked down the stairs to join the others. They were all looking grim.

“The victim had a black suit on,” Mansell said. It could’ve been Kent.

“What about the kidnapper? Anything there to clue us in on who it might’ve been?” Riley asked. Mansell shook his head.

“The assailant wore a grey hoodie with the hood up. There were no features to be seen. She couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman,” Miles said aggravated.

They all stood there at a loss. They’d known this was as good as a lost case from the beginning. It was sad but they’d learned to distance themselves in the job, but the thought that this might’ve been Kent and they didn’t have a chance of rescuing him haunted them.

They heard the snap of Chandler’s elastic band around his wrist, but they tried not to stare.

“Well if it is him, then the kidnapper has his phone! Is there anything we can do about that?” Riley suggested hopefully.

“We’d have to be certain it was him,” Miles said. “We can’t go about invading people’s privacy all willy-nilly.”

Mansell threw up his hands. “It has to be him! Where else would he be? Why would he lie about still working on the case?!”

“I don’t know!” Miles yelled. “It could be for a number of reasons. The point is, we’re not certain and we can’t just invade his privacy like that!”

“Not certain?! The witness saw a guy in a black suit. Kent lives here! Who else could it be?!”

“Miles! Mansell!” Chandler cut through their yelling and they stopped to look at him. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Have we done what could be done here? Otherwise let’s go back to the station and take it from there.”

“I didn’t get around to asking the top two flats,” Mansell admitted.

“Then do that. We’ll look around here one last time, see if we find anything and then we’ll meet back up at the station.”

Mansell looked up the stairs and sighed before climbing.

***

Kent looked up at the cutting board. It had been pushed slightly to the side and was looking like it might fall over any minute. It didn’t. Kent had waited to see. He slowly moved to get up from the floor. He winced when he moved his head – it still hurt from being slammed against the wall. He’d examined it earlier and found the hair at the back of his head to be sticky with blood, before quickly retracting with a gasp as his hand found the wound.

He sighed. Everything about him was sore and hurting, but he had to try. He steeled himself and bumped his shoulder hard into the wall.

“Ow,” he felt like an idiot making himself hurt even more, but when he looked at the cutting board it had moved slightly. He braced himself and repeated the action. It took a couple more tries, but with a crash the cutting board fell to the ground.

The knife was flung towards the door, but the scissors had landed so Kent could reach them with his free leg. For the first time in a while, Kent felt a spark of hope as he managed to get the scissors close enough for him to reach.

He’d observed the chain around his foot earlier and had found that one of the links was slightly bend apart, but with only one good hand, he hadn’t been able to widen the gap enough for the other links to pass through the gap, but now he was hoping that with the help of the scissors, he might be able to do it.

It was hard with just one hand, and the grip on the chain was slippery, not to mention he had to use his left hand. The first time he really put his strength into it, the scissor slipped off and Kent stumbled. He sucked in air through his teeth as several of the wounds on his arm started bleeding again.

He tried again but didn’t get any better result, still he kept at it. If there was any chance to make it work, he had to keep trying.

He almost gave up several times, but when he took a breather, he noticed the break in the link had widened and it encouraged him to try again.

Every once in a while, he would stop and listen. If Morgan came in, she would notice the cutting board straight away and Kent would only have a moment to attack her while she was caught off guard, but he heard nothing and he kept working away at the chain until finally it was bend enough for him to slip out the link closest to the wall.

The relief he felt at this achievement completely drained him of energy and he fell back against the wall, careful not to hit his head in any way.

He couldn’t relax now. Morgan could come in any moment and his plan would be ruined if he wasn’t ready when Morgan showed up again. He tried to get up, but his body wouldn’t obey him. He closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t hear her outside so a quick rest couldn’t hurt.

He jolted awake, very aware that he’d dozed off. He didn’t know for how long, but he instantly feared that Morgan would be there waiting for him. To his relief, she wasn’t, and a quick scan of the room told him that everything was exactly where it had been before he’d fallen asleep.

He crawled over to grab the knife, savouring the fact that he was able to move away from the single spot he’d been confined to. He tried the handle to get out hoping she’d have forgotten to unlock it in her arrogance, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get to it anyway just like she hadn’t bothered to remove the cutting board with the knife and scissors. It would have made this much easier, but she hadn’t. The door had rattled when he tried. The lock on the other side wasn’t the original lock which worked from the side Kent was on but was either a sliding door lock or a padlock installed on the other side. Kent guessed the latter since a sliding door lock could be opened by anyone, but she must be pretty certain no one would come down there since she had never restrained Kent’s voice beyond the hoarseness after being strangled.

He sat back down, though not in his usual spot. Morgan wouldn’t see him missing from there when she first opened the door anyway. The first thing she’d spot would be the cutting board and just as she noticed that, Kent would attack her from behind the door. But before she arrived, all he could do was wait.

***

Mansell hadn’t gotten anything useful out of asking the top two flats either. They’d returned to the station trying to figure out what to do, but they were at a loss.

“I’m calling him again,” Mansell said.

“Don’t call him too often. The kidnapper might get suspicious,” Riley said.

“See, it’s like that cat!” Mansell said in frustration.

“What are you on about?” Miles asked.

“That cat. The cat. It has some German sounding name.”

“Ah, you’re talking about Schrödinger’s cat; the famous thought experiment by the Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger,” began Buchan who had joined the others in their restless half circle around the whiteboard. Chandler was the only one who wasn’t around, as he’d retreated to his office. “He-“

“Yeah, that’s the one!” Mansell interrupted before Buchan got started on a rant. “Kent is simultaneously the person who was kidnapped, and he isn’t. If I try calling him, he _is _the one, but if we talk about tracking his phone, then he isn’t.”

“It’s called being careful,” Miles said.

“It’s called not doing anything!” They stared at each other for a couple of seconds. “I’m calling him.”

“Now hold on a second. There _is _a possibility of it being him, so calling him is just stupid since it would raise suspicions,” Miles said.

Mansell was about to respond but Miles continued: “And don’t tell me I don’t care about the lad. We all do! But tracking him when we have no real evidence could get someone in serious trouble if it turned out to not be the case.”

“And that’s not worth the risk?”

“It’s not your neck that’s on the line, nor is it mine. It’s not our decision to make,” Miles said with a deliberate look towards Chandler’s closed door.

At that moment, Riley’s phone rang.

“DC Riley,” she spoke.

“Um, hello, it’s Laura… Shaw. I just got a message back from Kent saying he wouldn’t be home since he’s sleeping over at his sister’s place tonight.

“Oh okay. Does that sound plausible to you?”

“Well yeah. He’s sometimes at his sister’s place.”

“Alright, thanks for calling. Keep us updated if you hear more, okay?”

“I will”

“That’s good, dear. Bye!” Riley looked at the others. “That was Kent’s roommate. She got a message back saying he’d be at his sister’s place.”

“I didn’t even know he had a sister,” Mansell said.

Miles nodded. “His twin. We can call her to verify if that’s the case.” He walked away from the half circle to look up her number and gave her a call. He came back a couple minutes later.

“She hadn’t made any plans for him to come and stay, so either he’s planning on a surprise visit or it’s another lie.”

Everyone looked at each other in turn without saying anything.

“I’m contacting the wireless service providers,” Chandler’s voice rang out.

They all shifted to look at him, but he had already gone back into his office to make a call. It caught them off guard to hear him make the decision.

Chandler had decided it was worth the risk to track Kent’s phone. Something wasn’t right, and more and more things pointed towards it really being Kent who had been seen shoved into the trunk of a car.

Morgan had tried to reassure him the day before, but it hadn’t convinced him. He knew Kent, and this was not how he usually reacted to things, even if he had been unusually hostile towards Morgan during the previous case and had inappropriately yelled about him being attracted to Morgan, but to just disappear and lie to the people he knew about where he was. It wasn’t right, and Chandler had always been willing to take risks at the job if it meant he might be able to save someone.

His thoughts started racing. Kent had been gone for over 24 hours and there was a good chance that he might already be dead. He grabbed at the collar of his shirt, no that wasn’t what he was supposed to do. The thought-stopper. He snapped the elastic band, but it didn’t work. He tried it again but trying to stop the thoughts was no good. They just came back.

It luckily didn’t take too long before he had his answer, something productive to do that could distract him from his thoughts. When he saw the location of the phone, he simply stared at it mouth slightly agape.

“Boss? Did you do it? Do you know where he is?” Miles said. He was standing in the doorway. The others were obviously looking their way with great interest.

“It’s at the apartment complex where Morgan lives,” Chandler said, feeling worried and unsettled at this information. Why would he be there of all places? A small part of his mind entertained the idea that Kent might have been right all along. What if Morgan was taking revenge, and he didn’t see it because he loved her. He loved her and that couldn’t be right, but what if? He shook his head to get rid of the thought. No, he couldn’t dwell on it. They had a destination now and he got to his feet. Mansell and Riley stood up at the same time declaring they were all coming with.

Chandler nodded as they headed for the cars.

***

Kent waited. The more time passed down there the worse he felt. He knew he had to be alert for when she came back, but he didn’t want to spend too much energy being nervously on edge. He sat back down, dared to close his eyes and listen.

He almost dozed off again but caught himself before his head slumped down and shook it to stay more awake. He winced at the motion but found that the pain kept him more awake. When he felt like he was about to fall asleep he decided to move his injured hand, but even the smallest of movement was agony and he regretted his decision. He looked down at it. The wound was messy and unclean, something he worried about if he succeeded in escaping. The bruise had blossomed into a large violent purple covering most of the hand. He had to be mindful of his hand as he made his escape attempt.

Then he heard it. Footsteps. His heart started racing. He’d been waiting for so long, preparing, and still he was not ready. He got himself into a crouched position using the hand in which he held the knife for support.

He heard the rattling of the lock. This was it. The door opened, and Kent snuck along the door. She was aware of the cutting board by now, but she would not be expecting him. As soon as the door started closing making her visible, Kent made his move. He jumped forward, having to trust in his accuracy as he would need the knife-hand for support as soon as his forward momentum stopped.

His aim was true, and the knife bored itself into her leg before she had any chance of deflecting the attack. She cried out. The knife clanged to the ground as Kent had to stop himself from falling down. He got up on his feet and bend down towards the knife, but Morgan had bend down from the pain and now her hand was resting on top of it.

Kent didn’t waste any time. Though he stumbled from pain, fatigue and dizziness, he turned around and fled out the door, before Morgan had time to use the knife against him. He ran through the dark room that looked to be some kind of storage space before coming out into a dark concrete hallway. He dared to look back and saw the silhouette of Morgan moving. She was dragging her leg. Hurt but not immobilized. He continued towards the light eventually coming into a cellar. At the other end of the room he saw the door leading to the stairs and he continued in the fastest pace his body would let him. He felt like he’d collapse any moment if it wasn’t for the adrenaline pumping through him.

He pushed the door open and began climbing the stairs. He could see the door leading to the outside.

“Argh!” Morgan had tugged on the chain still attached to his leg and pulled him down. He landed painfully on the stairs. Trying to shield himself from the fall he’d stretched out his injured hand, and the feeling was unbearable. For a moment he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t concentrate on anything else but the pure agony, but then panic set in. Morgan was readying her knife, seconds away from striking. He kicked out in desperation and for once hit his target, she stumbled backwards, and had to catch herself on the steps to avoid falling down, dropping the knife in the process.

“Heelp!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. It didn’t come out as strong as he wanted it to. His voice was still rough.

He stumbled to get back up and narrowly avoided falling down again. He fought through the pain as he got up on his feet. He continued forwards. He had to get away.

The fresh air as he got outside had never smelled as sweet, but he didn’t have time to stop and enjoy it. He had to push forward. Had to get away. It was all he could think about. One foot in front of the other as he constantly feared the presence behind him. She was coming for him, but he couldn’t hear how close she was through his own raggedy breaths and the chain scraping against the ground behind him. He just knew that she was there.

He stumbled forward not knowing where he was going. His vision was blurry from tears. He blinked. Someone was there.

“Heelp!” he cried out again, but focusing on the point ahead of him, he misjudged a step and fell, but managed to stop his fall by leaning against the wall.

He heard people yell and scream as Morgan approached him knife in her hand. He fought to get up, but she was closing in. This was it. He’d been so close, but his body refused to listen, he fought and fought to get into a fully upright position, but he had no strength left, and his legs were slowly giving up beneath him as he slid down the wall towards the ground.

At least there’d be witnesses.

“Police! Drop your weapon!” He heard the call from somewhere.

“I said drop your weapon!” The demand was louder, more intense.

There was more shouting, but it all started blending together. He felt like throwing up and he couldn’t focus on anything. His vision became dark and the last thing he heard was a voice nearby shouting about calling an ambulance.

***

“Kent! Kent! Is he alright? Is he gonna be alright?” Kent opened his eyes when he heard the panicked voice.

“The ambulance is on their way!”

Kent found himself lying on the ground with a whole group crowded around him. Kneeling right in front of him was Chandler, looking dishevelled and worried. Kent could tell that he had been crying.

Kent’s eyes wandered around the group and he recognised the whole team. He tried to sit up, but he was too weak.

The worry in Chandler’s eyes intensified and he held out a hand.

“Don’t move, Kent. The paramedics will be here soon,” he said trying but failing to sound calm. Kent had never seen Chandler so upset before and Kent almost felt scared to ask:

“What-what happened?”

Chandler looked away and didn’t respond.

“We have her. Don’t worry, lad!” Miles informed him.

Kent remembered how happy Chandler had been in the video he’d been shown. He knew the truth now, and Kent immediately empathised with him. When Chandler finally met his gaze again new tears had formed in his eyes.

“Kent,” he said but was interrupted by a sob. The others indiscreetly stepped away from the two of them. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t listen. You were right. I was too blind to see the truth. I-” His voice was broken by another sob.

“It’s _her_ fault, sir, not yours,” Kent reassured him in a low raspy voice. He latched onto being able to comfort and reassure someone else, and for a moment forget the horrors he’d been through and the misery he was in, but Chandler couldn’t get another word out and it all came back to him in the silence that stretched between them. Kent closed his eyes when he felt the all too familiar prickle of tears. Could it truly be over now?

As he thought that, a commotion arose around him again, and he recoiled in fear of what was happening, before realising the paramedics had arrived.

***

Chandler recalled the look of Kent as he’d lain on the ground. He’d looked pale and ill, with bruises around his neck. He’d been strangled. His clothes had been a mess of fresh and dried blood, and a chain was attached to his foot. Just what had Morgan subjected him to? The scariest thing to look upon had been his hand which was a bruised and bloody mess. He almost felt ill thinking of it, but they’d recently been ensured that even though they did not know the specifics yet, they were positive that Kent would be alright, so at least that was one less worry on his mind.

He was currently sitting back at the station staring at his desk. He’d changed his shirt and applied a heavy amount of tiger balm before sitting down ready to do some paperwork. Miles had offered to take care of the more practical side of things. The side that involved Morgan. Chandler appreciated it. He couldn’t handle that right now. The bottle of whisky lurking in his cupboard seemed very tempting, but he stayed away from it for the time being.

He didn’t get around to doing any of the paperwork though, instead arranging his desk as thoughts flooded his mind. He felt angry and betrayed by Morgan, but he also felt a deep loss. He thought he’d found someone to be happy with, someone who understood, but she’d just been manipulating him. He hadn’t told her a single lie, cause he wanted her to be comfortable with him. What a fool he’d been. He felt disgusted by her, but even more so he felt disgusted with himself.

How could he have felt that way towards someone such as her? How could he have let it obstruct his investigation. And Kent. He had come to him with his theory and he had just dismissed him without giving the idea a second thought. Had just defensively decided that the theory had been born out of some bias Kent had against Morgan, but he was the biased one.

He felt so guilty and ashamed when he thought of Kent.

“You saved him!” Miles had gently told him in encouragement before he’d given Chandler his space, but Chandler didn’t feel like that was true. He could’ve truly saved him if he had just listened to him, but instead he had become a victim due to a mistake he had made again.

No, Kent hadn’t died, and they’d finally gotten someone in alive, but it still felt like a hollow victory. Chandler sighed as he reached for the tiger balm again. The headache, like the thoughts, wouldn’t go away. As he reached for it, he saw the rubber band around his wrist. He let go of the tiger balm and rolled the rubber band off of his hand instead. He held it out before him, as he thought of the moment Morgan had given it to him. Thought of her. Thought of what she’d done.

His hands curled into fists around the rubber band, as he pulled it apart. It stretched further and further until at last it reached its breaking point and snapped, hitting both his hands with a sharp pang. He allowed himself a small smile as he threw the rubber band into the rubbish bin. ‘This is one less way for her to cause pain’, he thought, as he threw himself over the paperwork with renewed determination, ‘and we’re gonna make sure she has even fewer opportunities to do so.’   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are always very appreciated :)


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